


Tradition

by Aithilin



Series: Fresh Start [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Braids, Fluff, M/M, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Noctis knows those braids like they are a part of himself.





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CkyKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CkyKing/gifts).



Noct was used to fast showers after hunts, just enough to clean off the blood and mud and grime accumulated after following a bounty halfway up a damned mountain, and into the depths of the caves that honeycombed the stone. He usually just wanted to get clean, pass out, and then eat. There had been plenty of times he collected his bounty before making it home to clean up, plenty of times he knew he was blatantly intimidating the guy who thought he’d die before a payment was made. 

Noct had learnt to prioritise over the couple of years travelling alone. 

But now, he liked getting home; he liked slipping through the back door of Nyx’s bar and ducking into the apartment above the place before he even considered collecting his money. He liked stepping out of the shower just as Nyx was closing up and Libs was kicking out the last of the patrons. He liked being woken by Nyx— damp from his own shower— climbing into bed, usually climbing over him with a grin and a “oh, did I wake you?” before settling between his thighs and kissing him to welcome him home.

He liked sitting at the edge of their bed— clean and warm, and smelling like Nyx’s soap— and watching Nyx run a hand through his damp hair to loosen out the last of the tangles as he recollects the beads and cords and other little trinkets usually tied into the braids. He liked watching Nyx move— the scars he never talked about but Noct recognised drawing kisses and careful touches, as if the magic in them could still burn. 

They were a few months into this thing they had— into Noct carefully trying not to blurt out everything he knew about Nyx, into trying to ease his knowledge of what Nyx liked and preferred into the relationship rather than just falling into the old habits he once had— when Noct pulled Nyx to the bed with him. To settle Nyx in front of him as he ran careful, calloused hands through the older man’s hair. Admiring the softness of the man’s hair— loose and clean and slipping through his fingers like silk. 

“What are you doing, pretty thing?” Nyx asked, amused at the turn of events. 

“Admiring,” Noct answered, separating the hair into familiar bunches; starting to smooth out what needed to be gathered to restart those braids he had spent a lifetime ago learning. “May I?”

“Seems like you already are,” Nyx relaxed under the touch, soft smile on his lips instead of the usual smirk; “You know what you’re doing there?”

“I won’t ruin them,” Noct could promise that much. He remembered the nights spent like this on Nyx’s little bed, pushed into that little nook in his apartment. He remembered the way Nyx first guided his hands, the way his careful, gentle touches became guiding words and praise. He remembered the nights when Nyx would fall into bed with him and let him complete those braids after a long mission away. 

Noct would never forget learning those twists and loops and the way Nyx’s status in his own community rested on how his hair was done. 

Nyx would never remember teaching him the meaning behind every style and bead and cord. 

“Where did you learn to do this?” Nyx asked as Noct worked, as his eyes kept track of what Noct was doing in the mirror hanging on the wall. As he tilted his head to let Noct have better access. 

Noct could only smile as he worked the pattern of beads in; “Had a Galahdian lover once.”

“You have a type.”

“Yes.”

“So I shouldn’t let you roam around Galahd alone anymore.”

“Well, I’m not wearing your braids.”

“Do you want to?”

“Are you offering?”

“I suppose I am, pretty thing.”

Noct smiled as he made the last twist, as he threaded the smaller braids through the larger; “Then I accept, bartender.”

He was caught off guard as Nyx turned on him, pushed him down to the bed with a kiss. With the fierce claim Noct remembered, had begged for from every god he had ever known.


End file.
